


Mike In Manhattan

by veritas_st



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M, Main in Manhattan au, Movie AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 17:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12086292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritas_st/pseuds/veritas_st
Summary: H Specter looks at him over the woman's shoulder as she presses her lips to his neck and Mike blinks feeling suddenly uncomfortable, like he’s watching something he shouldn’t.  Specter keeps looking at him, expression unreadable as his hand slides around the woman and tugs her closer.  The doors ding again and begin to close and Mike swears he sees the hint of a smile of Specter’s face as they close.





	Mike In Manhattan

Mike wakes in stages. 

The first bringing in blinding light, a reward for leaving his drapes open over night. The recent oppressive heatwave blanketing the city had made it impossible to have the drapes closed but now he’s regretting it as the already strong morning sun streams into his eyes leaving him squinting. 

The second stage introduces the obnoxious noise from his cell.

He groans and gropes for the offending device stabbing blindly for a button and lifting it to his mouth.

“Wha?”

“Morning sunshine,” the voice is tinny but horrifically bright for the early hour and Mike grimaces and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Too early dude,” he groans again and the voice down the phone laughs. 

“It’s noon, douche nozzle. Get your ass down to Joey’s, I’ve got a job for you.” The phone clicks off in his ear. 

“Why am I still friends with you?” Mike asks the now black screen on his phone. 

~~~~~

An hour later and Mike pushes the door to Joey’s open. The diner two blocks from his tiny apartment has become, over the many years in New York, like an extension of home. Trevor is sitting in their normal booth and Joey waves at him from the kitchen, through the serving hatch. 

“Afternoon sunshine,” Trevor grins and slides a mug of black coffee across the table. Mike flips him off as he gulps down a couple of mouthfuls. 

“I’m not dealing for you again man,” Mike says, putting the mug back down on the table. “Plus I already have a job.”

“The bike messenger thing?” Trevor cuts his pancakes with the side of his fork and spears the delicious fluffy breakfast food into his mouth. 

They’ve been friends for, what feels like sometimes, forever and Trevor has gotten them into trouble more times than Mike can count. They’ve always had each others backs though, even when Mike got kicked out of school, even through the vile argument that made Jenny break up with Trevor. 

The last time Trevor had a job for Mike, it was dropping off a briefcase of pot to a fancy hotel that had Mike running for his life away from two undercover cops. He’d made it out with the briefcase, punched Trevor, broken his nose, spilled the pot dealing beans to Jenny, and made up with Trevor two weeks later. 

“Surely that’s not enough for your freaky brain,” Trevor grins his shit eating grin and spears another mouthful of pancakes just as the waitress slides Mike’s usual in front of him.  
“It’s a good gig, it pays, plus one of the guys I deliver to might be able to get me a job in the mail-room of the law firm he works for.” Harold was a good guy, kind and genuine and when Mike had sped through Manhattan traffic, weaving in and out of cars, his own safety far from his mind to help Harold get some urgent papers to a client, Harold had tried to repay him by offering to pass his resume onto the law firm he works for. Mike had been appreciative, but hadn’t yet decided if he was going to go for it. 

“I can get you $5,000.” Trevor grins again. 

“No,” Mike cuts into a pile of waffles. Trevor raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of coffee. 

“Alright...fine, it’s in a week if you want it. Offers open.” 

“Not gonna happen.” Mike swallows more coffee, then rests his chin innocently on his steepled fingers. “How’s it going making up with Jenny?” 

Trevor throws his balled up napkin at him. 

~~~~~

Mike weaves his bike through cars and pedestrians quickly and effortlessly before pulling up on the sidewalk outside Harold’s office building. There’s a small but heavy package in his backpack and the security guard waves Mike through. Harold had managed to get him to do that so he didn’t have to keep coming down the 40 floors to sign for his packages. 

The funny thing was, the packages were never for Harold himself, they were for some guy called Louis Litt and Mike could tell Harold was more than a little scared of him. 

The Receptionist on Harold’s floor smiles distractedly, the phone clenched between her ear and shoulder. She manages to type a quick message to, presumably, Harold at the same time as nodding and making vague noises of consent down the phone.

Less than five seconds later, an agitated looking Harold appears around the corner. 

“Oh Mike, thank God,” he sighs as Mike hands over the small package. 

“Do I even want to know what it is?” Mike asks and Harold shrugs a little. 

“Something for Louis’s cat,” Harold’s face wrinkles in derision and Mike snorts out a laugh. 

“Kind of an abuse of power,” Mike mutters as Harold signs for the package. “Anyway, gotta run, I have something for an...H Specter? As in Pearson Specter?” Harold nods and points down the hallway. 

“Follow that hallway till you see a scary, hot looking redhead. That’s Donna.” Harold throws him a distracted wave as he pulls open the package and wanders off and Mike heads down the hallway. 

He finds the scary, hot looking redhead at a desk in front of an impressive office. 

“Are you Donna?” Mike asks and she holds one perfectly manicured finger up to him but continues looking at her screen. The finger lowers a fraction of a second before she turns green eyes to Mike and raises one eyebrow questioningly. “Delivery?” Mike holds out the large envelope and the signature pad and Donna looks at him. Mike resists the urge to squirm under the scrutiny as he gets the feeling she’s seeing so much more than just his face, and bike helmet perched precariously on the top of his head. 

She takes the pad, signs for the package and removes the envelope from Mike’s hands. She holds it out to her side like she’s expecting someone to take it from her hand when someone does. Mike follows the strong looking, neat hands upwards to the crisp white cuffs, expensive cufflinks, a blue black suit and immaculate hair, finally stopping at an handsome, if smug face. He barely spares Mike a look, snags a coffee from the top of Donna’s desk and sweeps into his office. Mike raises an eyebrow at Donna who raises one back and pushes her chair from her desk and stands. 

Mike takes that as his cue to leave, mock salutes her with two fingers to his temple and is back on his bike weaving through traffic without another thought to the expensive three-piece suit. 

~~~~~

Mike pushes the door open to his apartment. It's a tiny two and a half room space, the half being his bathroom. But it’s his. He had worked hard to get where he was right now and his Grammy would have been proud of him, having a job that didn’t rely on Trevor, but she’d been gone for 2 years now. He still misses her like an ache in his chest sometimes. 

Trevor’s job opportunity plays on his mind. As does Harold’s. He makes ends meet with his job, just about, but he sometimes wishes there was more. He powers up his laptop and pulls up his Resume on screen. 

He likes his job, mostly. It gives him freedom and the feeling of flying through traffic on his bike is hard to beat, but his mind craves more sometimes. The almost constant buzz in his brain doesn't quieten unless it’s working and delivery packages isn’t exactly mentally taxing. 

His resume doesn’t have a huge amount on it and Mike feels sick at the long amount of time between leaving school and getting a job. A blank space in time where Harvard Law should be written. He sighs and pads it out the best he can, putting getting into Harvard under his achievements section. As nice at $5,000 cash would be, he can’t do that to the memory of his Grammy. She would have expected more fr hom him, to truth be told, Mike expects more himself these days as well. 

His phone buzzing angrily across his small coffee table almost makes him jump, and he sighs good naturedly when he sees Trevor’s name on the screen. 

“Get your dancing shoes on, we’re going out,” Trevor’s voice is cheery again, this time less annoying, and Mike grins down the phone. 

“Give me 10,” he says as he shuts his laptop and gets up from the couch. 

There’s knock at his apartment door and as he pulls the door open, Trevor’s voice sounds from in front of him and down the phone simultaneously, “you have 2.” 

~~~~~

There’s a pleasant buzz in Mike’s veins that has nothing to do with his brain needing something to think about, and more about the amount of alcohol. Trevor smiles across the table at Jenny and Mike can’t help but smile at them both. 

Jenny’s been with them for years, and Mike had thought, for a while, that he was meant to be with Jenny and he resented Trevor for it. But he’d got over that and now looking at them both looking at each other Mike can see that they’re happy. Or at least getting there again. 

Mike had been the one to get the three back together, or at least talking again. Trevor getting Jenny back had been all Trevor. Sometimes Mike feels bad for her, he knows that Trevor hasn’t told her everything, hasn't told her that he’s still dealing on the side of his well paid IT Consultant job. The same job that was the lie all those years before. But Mike can’t bear the thought of that smile vanishing from Jenny’s face again, he definitely didn’t want to be the reason it fades. He’s told Trevor to tell her the truth and he has to trust that one day he will. Or he’ll stop dealing for good. 

There’s a guy at the bar making eyes at Mike and Mike lets him for the moment. He’ll sweep out of here without a backwards glance later but right now it’s good to feel wanting eyes on him, no matter that he’s not in the mood for nameless sex. He spares the guy the odd look, feeling something like want pool low in his belly and Jenny raises an eyebrow across the table at him. Mike huffs out a laugh, slipping lower in his seat but shaking his head at her. He’ll go home in a minute, back to his own space and lie starfished across his narrow bed and sleep until the sun comes up but right now he looks across the table at his two best friends again and smiles. 

~~~~~

Harold opens his door looking flustered. 

“Oh Mike, hi,” he steps aside and waves Mike in. It’s just after 8.30 in the evening and Mike’s spent all afternoon on his resume. Harold’s apartment is covered in papers, files over every available space. Mike’s been to Harold’s apartment once, a while ago, but being Mike, he remembered exactly where it was and if Harold is surprised he doesn’t show it. 

“What happened?” Mike asks and Harold tugs at his unruly curls. 

“Work. And my boss.” Harold moves some papers from an armchair and gestures for Mike to sit. 

“This doesn’t look like a good time,” Mike says and Harold shakes his head. 

“No, no, what’s up?” Mike sits. Harold perches on the edge of the couch arm. 

“I was wondering if the job still stands?” Harold’s face lights up and holds his hands out for the resume. Mike spent the weekend working on it, pacing his apartment, trying to ignore the need to have a joint, working on his resume again. He wants this job, he needs this job. He needs something else. Grammy was always so sure that he was meant for better things and the thought of her gave Mike the push he needed to finish the resume and bike over to Harold’s apartment. It’s what she would have wanted. 

“Of course. I’m not promising anything but I’ll pass it on.” He looks around for a space on the counters and ends up holding it in his hands instead. “Does that mean you’ll give up delivering packages?” 

“I just need something else, you know? Sometimes I spend days not having conversations with anyone and I feel my mind is melting.” Harold laughs and heads towards the refrigerator. He pulls out two beers and offers Mike one. Mike nods and Harold twists the caps off. Mike takes a long pull from the bottle as Harold perches back on the edge of the couch again. “What’s going on here?” Mike looks down at the papers and finds his fingers itching to touch, to look, to digest the information and find a solution to the evident problem. Harold gestures to the whole lot. 

“It’s a class action,” he says and Mike gestures questioningly to the papers, Harold nods and Mike lifts one to read. “You understand that?” He says, and it’s not patronising, it’s genuine and Mike wonders how Harold makes it in the cutthroat world of corporate law. 

“I was going to go to Harvard,” Mike says and Harold’s eyebrows shoot up. “That was a lifetime ago though.” Mike can hear the tone in his own voice that begs for no further questions and Harold nods once. 

“I need to get all this documented before I go away,” Harold says and Mike looks up at him. 

“Want a hand?” Harold’s grin is all Mike needs for an answer.

~~~~~

It’s only after three hours of staring at papers that Mike realises there are Orchids all over Harold’s apartment as well. Different types in varying sizes of pots and Mike blinks, his eyes blurring slightly as they adjust to distance. 

“What’s with the plants?” Mike asks and Harold looks up from his own papers looking lost for a second. 

“Oh, Louis is having some work done on his apartment and needed me to look after them.” 

“Is Louis as ridiculous as he sounds?” Harold looks over his shoulder briefly like Louis might be standing behind him and nods. 

“More so. They have to be watered...well ‘misted’,” he uses his fingers to quote like it’s been drummed into him, “every 11 hours.” Harold sighs and Mike feels sorry for the kind hearted young man in front of him. He’s more than capable but Mike gets the feeling he never gets the chance to shine. “He made me look after his cat once and I’m allergic.” 

“Aren’t you going away this weekend?” Mike asks, looking at the flowers. 

“Yes, and the following week, it’s been booked for months, and they’re probably going to die and I’m going to lose my job,” Harold looks like he’s going to cry. 

“I can ‘mist’ them for you,” Mike says with a smile and Harold now looks dangerously like he’s going to launch himself across the files and hug Mike. 

“Really?” 

“Sure, you're helping me out with the resume so it’s the least I can do. I mean,” Mike shrugs, “If you’re happy for me to.” 

“Happy? You’re the best Mike. I’ll get you a set of keys. You can even stay here if you want, house sit?” Not for the first time Mike things Harold resembles some sort of puppy lamb hybrid. He’s looking at Mike like he’s just asked Mike to go to Disneyland with him. 

“How long are you away for?” 

“I’m back at the end of the following week.”

“Sure. Ok.” It wouldn’t be too much of a hardship. Harold’s bedroom is bigger than Mike’s whole apartment. Maybe he could get Trevor over to watch some movies. He’s pretty sure the pizza places around here are better than his local. Plus, Harold has been the only one to see Mike as a person rather than just a delivery boy for such a long time. He’s got Mike the chance at a job. He owns Harold. Harold grins across the files and Mike smiles back. 

~~~~~

Mike leaves Harold’s apartment with a key in his pocket and the pleasant buzz of hard work behind his eyes. He feels more alive now than he’s felt for ages and he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He reaches into his phone to text Trevor, he needs a drink, and possibly, to take someone home. His elevator reaches the lobby, dinging as the doors slide open, as Mike’s halfway through the text and he walks straight into a giggling woman. She’s blonde, and beautiful in a predictable kind of way and she apologises with another giggle. 

The man she’s with rumbles out an apology as he slides past Mike into the elevator and Mike remembers his face from Harold’s Law Firm. H Specter. He remembers the hands. The handsome, smug face. 

H Specter looks at him over the woman's shoulder as she presses her lips to his neck and Mike blinks feeling suddenly uncomfortable, like he’s watching something he shouldn’t. Specter keeps looking at him, expression unreadable as his hand slides around the woman and tugs her closer. The doors ding again and begin to close and Mike swears he sees the hint of a smile of Specter’s face as they close. 

Mike sucks in a breath, feeling shaken for some inexplicable reason and his phone buzzes in his hand. 

_Meet me at the bar_

The text is from Trevor. Short, sweet and so very Trevor that Mike smiles, moment with Mr H Spector forgotten. 

~~~~~

Mike’s three beers and 4 shots down and he’s got his hands in the hair of a stranger on his knees in front of him. 

They barely made is back to Mike’s apartment, Trevor and Jenny waving them off with laughs, before the stranger, Tom, Mike thinks distractedly, is on his knees with Mike’s cock in his mouth. Tom groans and Mike tightens his grip, jerks his hips forward and comes down Tom’s throat. It’s not often Mike takes men home, it usually soft curves under his hands rather than hard muscle but sometimes, Mike wants to not hold back, or wants to have someone not hold back with him. Wants the burn of stubble against his thighs, wants to tug of short hair and have strong fingers wrapped around his wrists. 

Tom stands and spins them, pressing Mike against the wall of his apartment, the plaster rough against Mike’s cheek, but he groans and pushes back against him as Tom gets a hand around Mike’s belt and tugs it open. Mike’s pants hit the floor with a metallic clang of the belt buckle. 

“How do you want it?” Tom asks, running a hand over Mike’s short hair. 

“Hard,” Mike grits out and Tom gets a handfull of Mike’s hair and tugs.

Tom fucks him hard, against the wall of his apartment. And Mike goes to sleep with his brain blissfully quiet and bruises forming on his hips. 

~~~~~

The week passes as normal until Thursday when Mike gets a call as he’s getting a signature of a package he’s delivering to a girl with a blush against her cheeks. Mike’s pretty sure there are sex toys in the package but he smiles innocently and tugs his phone out of his pocket. 

The number is one he doesn’t recognise, but the area code is Manhattan. He frowns. 

“Hello?”

“Mike Ross?”

“This is he,” Mike nods at the girl and takes the signature pad back from her. He raises a knowing eyebrow and she blushes even more. Mike stifles a laugh as he heads back to his bike. 

“This is Leo Blake from Pearson Specter calling,” the voice is semi professional sounding, a little harried, a little try-hard perhaps and Mike grips the phone harder, “we received your resume from one of the second year associates and we would like you to come in to have a chat with us.”

“Really? Thank you. When?” Mike feels a thrill run through his veins and resists the urge to punch the air in victory. 

“Would tomorrow be too soon for you?”

“No tomorrow is perfect. What time?” Mike knows he sounds keen but he can’t help it. There’s a hint of a smile in the voice down the phone when it replies at 11am would be the best time and Mike thanks them again before hanging up. 

He gives into the urge to punch the air then, hissing out a quiet “yes” as he does it. He wants to tell someone, wants to phone and crow down the phone but his fingers hover over Trevor’s name on the phone screen. He scrolls back up to Harold and types out a quick message before getting back on his bike and weaving off through the traffic. 

~~~~~

Harold’s as pleased for Mike as Mike is for himself and invites Mike round for a beer and to show him around the apartment. Mike accepts and pulls on a decent pair of jeans and a soft grey t-shirt. The heatwave has broken, but it’s still warm, just not oppressively so. The noise of New York filters into Mike’s apartment as he pulls the shirt over his head and runs his fingers through his hair. Mike loves the noise of the city. It may seem quiet from above, but there’s a constant noise running through the city. It reminds Mike of his own brain, buzzing quietly in his head even when Mike’s tired, like the the constant sound of a far off radio, the bass line from the next door apartment. Mike runs his fingers through his hair again and tries to suppress the wild spikes. He gives up and grabs his bike from the wall mounted rack. 

He makes it to Harold’s apartment in 20 minutes, feeling breathless and happy. 

Pete the Night Concierge waves at his from behind the desk and Mike grins. He’s delivered here a few times, been to Harold’s apartment twice and Pete knows him. 

“You look happy,” he says and Mike huffs out a small laugh. 

“Got a job interview tomorrow,” Mike says and Pete claps him on the shoulder. 

“Good for you,” he says and it’s genuine and Mike grins again. 

“Oh, has Harold told you I’m house sitting for him for the next week?” Pete nods and holds up a piece of paper. 

“You’re on the list of approved visitors,” he says with a mock serious tone and Mike bows slightly. “Just walk straight in.” 

“Well I am honoured,” Mike straightens his t-shirt and digs his thumbs into imaginary braces and Pete laughs. 

“You should be,” the front doors of the apartment building slide open and Mike feels a draft of warm city air, “Good evening Mr Specter.” Mike turns to find himself face to face with H Specter from Pearson Specter. He’s still immaculate but the tie is a little looser than when Mike first saw him. 

“Evening Pete,” The voice that comes from Specter’s mouth is low and smooth, a slight crackle probably from tiredness and he spares a brief glance at Mike. The brief glance turns into a longer look and Mike feels uncomfortable all of a sudden. 

“I’ll uh...see you Pete,” Mike hurries to the elevator and stabs the call button. Behind the metal doors Mike hears the whir of machinery just as Specter slides into the reflection next to him. He’s got his head down, phone in his hand and there’s a slight turn up at the corner of his mouth and Mike shifts as the doors slide open. Mike jabs the 8th floor and turns questioningly to Specter. 

“Penthouse.”

“Of course.” 

“Excuse me?” Specter drops his phone into his pocket and looks at Mike. 

“Nothing, just...you look like you live in the Penthouse.” Mike shrugs a little and Specter quirks one side of his mouth. There’s a mole at the corner of his lips and Mike suddenly has the urge to kiss him, to push him against the wall of the elevator and kiss him. Specter raises an eyebrow like he can read Mike’s mind and takes a small step closer. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he holds out his hand to Mike. “Harvey.” 

“Nice to meet you,” he slides his hand into Harvey’s. It’s warm and dry, smooth but the grip is strong and Harvey tugs a little, Mike steps forward willingly. 

“I’ll see you around...” Harvey says as the elevator doors slide open again and Mike steps out. The look Harvey gives him as the doors slide open is the same as he did when Mike saw him with the blonde woman a few days before and Mike shakes his head slightly, clearing the wave of want that crashes over him. He didn’t give Harvey his name and he knows that Harvey thinks he lives here. Mike pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s been a long time since someone gave Mike that rush of want almost instantly but there was something in the way Harvey looked at him, something dark in those eyes that pits low in Mike’s belly. He sighs, part of him wishing he never sees Harvey again, the other pat hoping he does. 

~~~~~

Harold greets him with a smile and a beer. Mike wastes no time asking him about the class action suit which Harold informs him is moving along nicely thanks to his work the other day. Mike feels a surge of pride and accomplishment and not for the first time since his life got derailed, wishes that he made it to Harvard. He wonders often how different his life would have been if he hadn’t stolen that test, if he hadn’t listened to Trevor. If he hadn’t even taken the fall for Trevor.

Harold shows him around the apartment, how everything works. Mike thinks he might just stick to take-out coffees as the machine looks threateningly across the kitchen at him. The orchids are still littered across the apartment and Harold sighs as he looks at them. 

“I just don’t understand orchids,” he says and Mike laughs. 

“They’re flowers, not much to understand.”

“No, I don’t understand people’s obsession with them. I mean, like you said, they’re just flowers, and ok fine some of them are rare but they’re such special snowflakes, you know? You move them and they die. Why can’t everyone just have Peace Lilys. They wilt when they’re thirsty and come back to life when you water them. Simple.” Harold’s a little drunk, his hair more curly than normal, a stray curl hanging over his forehead, and his eyes take a second to focus on Mike. “Thank you so much for doing this by the way.”

“Hey, no problem,” Mike shrugs and nudges Harold’s shoulder with his own. “I should get going though, don’t wanna be hungover for my interview tomorrow.” Harold grins, bright and brilliant. 

“Good luck with it.” Mike claps him on the shoulder briefly. “I…” he starts dramatically, “don’t have to work tomorrow.” 

“I have a shift to do after my interview but I’ll be over in the evening, that ok?” 

“That’s fine, and again Mike, thank you.” 

“Again...it’s no problem. Have a good vacation.” Mike makes it down to the lobby without seeing anyone and if he’s a little disappointed, he’s not going to admit it, even to himself. 

~~~~~

“So Mr Ross,” Leo Blake is the kind of unassuming looking man that you would quite happily walk past without noticing, but Mike has spent the last half an hour thinking that he knows a lot more than he lets on, and is worth a whole lot more than the mail room of a law firm. “I just have one final question.” 

Mike knows what’s coming, it’s not been bought up for the whole time he’s been here, normal questions being asked instead. But Mike can hear the question in the air between them already. 

“Why didn’t you go to Harvard Law? You got in I can see.” Leo looks at him, not accusingly, but questioningly, genuinely interested. 

“I made mistake, and the price was my place at Harvard Law.” Mike says honestly. Well as honestly as he’s willing to be right now. Leo looks at him. Long and hard, like he’s trying to figure Mike out, like he’s trying to figure out how big the mistake was and if Mike is still worth taking a shot on. Mike looks back at him, and hopes he doesn’t look defiant. 

“Well, we all make mistakes Mr Ross. Would you start in a week?” Mike feels his mouth drop open and Leop gives him what Mike thinks must be a rare smile. 

“Really?” 

“You’re honest, hard working by the looks of things. Intelligent enough to get into Harvard Law, I think this job is going to be beneath you, but if you want it, it’s yours.” 

“I want it.” Mike says and smiles back at Leo. “Thank you so much Mr Blake.”

“I’ll see you in just over a week.” 

~~~~~

Mike treats himself to really good Chinese take-out from the place down from Harold’s apartment that he recommended and a sixer of the good beer that Trevor buys. The food smells amazing as Mike battles with Harold’s post box in the lobby. Pete chuckles at him lightly and Mike glares at him. The tiny key seems too flimsy for the amount of pressure Mike needs to put on it to get it to turn and he sighs again, putting the beer down on the floor next to the food that he’s dying to eat. 

“Let me help,” a low voice in his ear offers and a hand sneaks out to tap lightly on the hinges of the post box. The lock gives and the door springs open and Mike finds himself face to face with Harvey Specter, looking amused and irritatingly good looking. The suit today is a dark gray, with a slightly paler pin stripe and Mike has a sudden urge to run his hands up the arms of the suit. It would be preferable if Harvey was still wearing it at the time. 

“Thanks,” Mike pulls out a small bundle of letters and slams the door shut again. 

“Celebrating?” Harvey gestures to the beer and take-out and Mike nods a little.

“I got a new job today,” he offers and Harvey smiles, a slow easy smile that makes his eyes crease at the corners. 

“Well you can’t celebrate alone,” he says and Mike raises an eyebrow. 

“Who said I’m celebrating alone?” 

“Unless, you’re not feeding the person you’re celebrating with, you’re celebrating alone.” Harvey nods down at the small bag of food. 

“Oh you’re good, Sherlock,” Mike says with a smile of his own. Harvey tips an imaginary hat at him. 

“Elementary, my dear Watson.” Mike lets out a laugh. Harvey’s still watching him when he picks up the beer and the food from the floor and puts the mail under his arm. “Listen, I have great whiskey to go with that beer.”

“And?” Mike says as they walk together towards the elevators. Pete raises a knowing eyebrow at him from across the lobby and Mike resists the urge to flip him off. 

“As I said, you can’t celebrate alone.” 

“I thought you also said, I didn’t have enough food for two people?” Mike says as the elevator doors slide open. 

“I didn’t say anything about eating, come have a drink.” 

“That sounds like you always get your way,” Mike replies and Harvey shrugs a little. 

“That’s because usually my way is the best way,” he presses the 8th floor and the penthouse button. “So?” 

Mike makes a show of thinking about it. He has a feeling he knows how this evening will end if he goes up to the Penthouse with Harvey, but the part of him that hoped to see Harvey again is shouting louder than the part that never wanted to see him again. The doors slide open on the 8th floor and Harvey reaches out to stop them from closing, leaning closer to Mike. 

“Have a drink with me,” he says, softly.

Mike can do nothing except nod once, muttering out an amused “demanding” as Harvey takes his hand off the doors and they slide shut. 

There’s jolt in the elevator as it moves upwards that mirrors the jolt in Mike’s stomach when Harvey mutters “good boy” low and quiet at him across the space between them. 

~~~~~

Mike allows himself to drink in all the details of Harvey’s impressive apartment. The simple, yet rich furnishings, the lack of personal touches. There’s impressive art hanging on the walls yet no photos. The wall of books takes Mike’s breath away as he hears Harvey fixing a drink for them behind him. He runs his fingers over the spines and they’re all law books. He pulls the Barbari Legal Handbook from the shelf as Harvey holds out an expensive looking glass in front of him. The warm scent of whiskey hits him and he takes a sip, his eyes closing as he does. He opens his eyes and Harvey’s looking at him. 

“That’s not a particularly interesting read,” Harvey says, nodding down at the book. Mike shrugs as well as he can with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a heavy tome in the other. 

“I dunno, it’s interesting enough,” Harvey sits and indicates to one of the large, deep armchairs in front of the fireplace. Mike sits, rests his glass on the table in front of him and opens the book on his lap. 

“The law interests you?” Harvey asks, swirling the whiskey around his glass. He takes a sip and Mike can see in his face the expression of a man who appreciates the finer things in life. Harvey looks softer than he usually does in this light, the hard edges worn away by the dim lighting and more than likely a long day. 

“When I was in college it was my dream to be a lawyer,” Mike says and he feels his throat close against the onslaught of words that want to pour out. Harvey frowns slightly. 

“And what happened?”

“I got knocked into a different life,” Mike says with a shrug and Harvey reaches across the table to take the book from his hands. Mike has a sudden urge to lighten the mood and his brain is still buzzing so he nods at the book. “Read me something. Anything.” 

There’s a half smile playing at the corner of Harvey’s lips but he opens the book at a random page. “Civil liability associated with agency is based on several factors including…”

“...including the deviation of the agent from his path, the reasonable inference of agency on behalf of the plaintiff, and the nature of the damages themselves.” Mike grins across the table at Harvey’s expression. 

“How do you know that?” There’s awe in Harvey’s voice, a hint of wonder and Mike shifts as Harvey stares at him across the coffee table. 

“I learned it,” Mike shrugs again.

“Ok so being a lawyer was your dream. What do you do now? Or what new job did you just get?” Harvey crosses one leg over the other and leans back in the chair, and Mike can hear the unasked questions in Harvey’s voice but he wants to lead Mike to that point rather than outright ask. Such a lawyer, Mike thinks. 

“Hopefully...a way back,” Mike’s darkened the mood again and Harvey places the book on the coffee table and stands. He walks over to Mike and crooks a finger at him. Mike stands, the look on Harvey’s face is dark and predatory in the best way. 

“That’s quite a brain,” Harvey says, his voice low and Mike swallows as Harvey reaches out to him, curls two fingers under Miks chin.

“It can be trouble,” Mike whispers and Harvey huffs out a laugh, taking another small step towards him and Mike knows, with a sudden clarity that should worry him but somehow doesn’t, that Harvey’s going to kiss him. 

“I think _you_ could be trouble,” he replies and covers Mike’s mouth with his own. Mike can do nothing except kiss him back, curling his fingers into Harvey’s white shirt, the expensive material balling under his fingers as Harvey curls a hand around Mike’s neck, his thumb pressing into the soft skin under Mike’s chin. 

Mike’s had a few outstanding first kisses. But nothing like the raw hunger from Harvey. It’s not hard, the kiss, but Mike can feel the need under it, like Harvey’s holding himself back and Mike uncurls his fingers from the shirt and tugs Harvey’s hips closer. Harvey groans and kisses Mike harder, his hand sliding back to cup the back of Mike’s head. 

There’s warning bells in Mike’s head, Harvey thinks he lives here, Harvey thinks he’s a resident and it's not fair on either of them to let him think that. Mike pulls away with difficulty, and watches as Harvey licks at his lower lip like he’s tasting Mike. 

“We should eat,” Mike says and Harvey nods, heading back towards the kitchen and pulling food from Mike’s small bag. “Shall I call for more?” 

“I’ve got steaks, if we need,” Harvey says, pulling a container from the bag and lifting the lid. Mike’s suddenly aware of the intimacy of sharing food, he doesn’t know Harvey yet he feels at place here, in this space with him, with Harvey pulling his food from the small bag and lifting two plates from a cupboard behind him. He feels the almost familiarity of the act and he swallows as Harvey looks up at him. 

“You cook?” Mike asks to lighten the mood he feels in himself. Harvey acts affronted. 

“Very well, thank you.” He smiles and holds a plate out to Mike. 

“You don’t look like the kind of guy that cooks,” Mike takes the plate from him and seats himself on one of the barstools in front of the kitchen counter. Harvey takes one of the beers, twists the cap off and slides it across the counter to Mike. 

“What kind of guy do I look like?” Harvey asks and Mike cocks his head to the side, looking at him. 

“The kind of guy that eats out a lot.” 

“Was that a dig at my weight?” Mike laughs and Harvey smiles at him. 

“Not at all, from what I can see, you look good,” Harvey raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Play your cards right, you’ll see more.” Mike lets out a genuine laugh and snags an egg rolls from one of the containers. 

The conversation is easy, they stay away from anything too personal, quoting movies at each other and judging the other on their choices. Harvey’s quick witted, highly intelligent and knows it. Mike catches him looking across the space between them with an unreadable expression on his face every now and then and Mike doesn’t even want to try and decipher it. He’s happy with the easy flow of conversation, beer and mutual attraction. 

Harvey reaches across the counter to take Mike’s plate and dumps it in the sink. He’s standing in front of Mike again before he can blink and Mike’s got a buzz of happy energy flowing through his veins. Harvey reaches out and runs a thumb across Mike’s cheekbone before leaning in to kiss him again. Harvey tastes like Chinese food, beer and expensive whiskey, smells like money and potential heartbreak and Mike kisses him back, standing from the bar stool and tugging Harvey close. 

“I should go,” He says and even this close Mike can see Harvey frown. 

“No,” Harvey reaches up and runs his thumb across Mike’s bottom lip. “You shouldn’t. But if you’re going to, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Like you could,” Mike raises an eyebrow and Harvey barks out a laugh, the spell of the kiss broken. Harvey looks him up and down, his own eyebrow raised questioningly. 

“I’m not going to apologise for my lithe physique ok? And by the way, I was on the wrestling team in High School. Ok is something funny?” Harvey runs a hand up Mike’s back and pulls him close again. 

“I’m just trying to imagine you fighting someone,” Harvey’s breath ghosts over Mike’s lips and Mike feels himself pressing forwards again. 

“You’re imagining me in tights,” Mike says and Harvey rolls his hips against Mike’s. 

“Not one of my usual kinks but we can work on it if that floats your boat,” Mike snorts and pushes Harvey away. 

“Ok, I really should go.” 

“Have dinner with me,” Harvey says as Mike runs a hand through his hair, “again. Proper dinner this time.” 

“Another demand?”

“Another request,” Harvey pulls his front door open and Mike lingers on the threshold. He should say no, he should tell Harvey now that he’s not who Harvey thinks he is. He should… “Say yes.”

“Ok.”

It’s only when he’s back in Harold’s apartment that he realises Harvey never asked for his name.

~~~~~

Harold’s apartment has a great view. Not as good at Harveys, but a hell of a lot better than Mike’s.

Mike stands, leaning against a wall, in front of a window, with a mug of coffee in his hands. He managed to work out the coffee machine, with only a few swear words, and the steam rising from the divine liquid warms his face. 

Last night with Harvey plays on his mind. He’s never felt a connection like that with someone, like he implicitly trusted someone instantly. It’s thrown him a little and he shakes his head slightly, overlooking the city he loves. If he thinks carefully, he can still feel Harvey’s hands around his face, still feel Harvey’s lips against his. 

He’s playing a dangerous game and he knows it. Harvey thinks he lives in the building, Harvey doesn’t know until yesterday Mike was just a bike messenger. He doesn’t know Mike is about to start a job in the mail room of the law firm he works for. Hell, the law firm he’s a named partner of. 

Pete had looked like he wanted to say something to Mike this morning when Mike had gone out to his second to last shift, words just behind Pete’s lips and Mike had ignored him, even though Pete had looked amused, not accusatory. 

He’s not spoken to Trevor for a few days, isn’t ready to speak to him, to tell him what’s going on. Mike’s not even sure himself. He’s washing the coffee mug when there’s a knock at Harold’s apartment door. 

Harvey looks breathtaking without a suit. He’s wearing a pale grey blue henley and his hair is free, making him look softer, but there’s something about the way in which he holds himself, an air about him that makes Mike think he would pick Harvey out of a line of people if asked to point out the lawyer. Harvey grins at Mike and Mike can’t help but smile back. 

“I just realised I never asked your name, so I got it from Pete, and your apartment number,” Harvey says stepping closer and Mike’s stomach clenches. “So Harold, have dinner with me tonight?” 

The ground pitches beneath Mike’s feet, and Harvey takes another step forward, snaking an arm around Mike and pulling him close. 

“I can’t,” Mike whispers just as Harvey closes the small space between them and kisses him. It’s light, just a press of lips but Mike feels himself chase the touch when Harvey pulls back. 

“Ok,” Harvey keeps his hand on Mike, a solid block of heat against his lower back, “then tomorrow night come to a boring work thing with me and make it less boring?” There’s nothing more that Mike wants to do than to say yes, to escape his own world for the night and play in Harvey’s. But Harvey thinks he’s Harold, Harvey doesn’t know who Mike is, what he is and Mike can’t do that to him. He starts to shake his head when Harvey lifts his hand to Mike’s face and the curve of his thumb fits perfectly under Mike’s bottom lip. 

“Ok,” he finds himself saying and the resulting smile of Harvey is almost heartbreaking in its openness. 

“Great,” Harvey brushes their lips together, “maybe you’ll see more of me then,” he winks as he pulls back and Mike swallows. Hard. “I’ll come get you at 8. Wear a tux.” 

He’s gone before Mike can say he doesn’t own one. 

~~~~~

“What the hell did you do?” Mike lays his hands flat on Pete’s desk, leaning forward and Pete chuckles. 

“What?” He asks innocently and Mike wants to be cross but he likes Pete and he knows Pete won't have done anything in malice. 

“Harvey thinks my name is Harold and I live here,” Mike stands up and crosses his arms across his chesk. “And he’s asked me to a very fancy work thing tonight and I have to wear a tux and I don’t have one. Oh and also my names not Harold and I don’t live here.” 

“Oh...that,” Pete glances at the CCTV monitors. 

“Yeah...that.” 

“So what are you gonna do?” Pete asks and Mike sighs. He should tell Harvey the truth, knock on his door in his work helmet, trailing his bike through the hallways of this expensive apartment building and explain that this was all just a big misunderstanding. Explain that he’s going to work in the Pearson Specter mail room. That he sold a test to the Dean of his college’s daughter, than he got kicked out of Harvard before he even went. Explain that his life took a nose dive and he never meant to lie to Harvey. He should but Mike licks at his lower lip and can practically still taste the expensive whiskey and Harvey’s kiss.

“I dunno.”

“How often do us little guys get to play the big guy?” Pete asks.

“So I owe it to us to go to dinner with him?” Mike asks with a smile and Pete nods. 

“Pretty much.” Mike sighs again.

“I don’t have a tux,” he practically whines and Pete grins. 

“Harold has one, I’ve seen him in it. I’ll be up when I finish my shift.” 

“Are we teenage girls now? I can dress myself.” Mike glares.

“Listen, if this is one night that you have to play the big guy, to play the part of the guy that lives in the Penthouse, to be that person. And god damn it Mike, I’m living vicariously through you.” 

“Fine.” Mike’s going to hell, he might as well do it after a night with Harvey in an expensive tux. 

~~~~~

“Dude are you coming out tonight?” Trevor asks. Mike’s got his phone on speaker on the kitchen counter, a water mister in his hands and the orchids are still alive so he’s calling it a win. 

“Can’t, busy,” Mike says and he can practically hear Trevor's frown down the phone. 

“What do you mean, busy?” 

“Uh….”

“Do you have a date?” He hears Jenny’s voice, tinny in the distance and Trevor laughs. 

“Do you?” Mike sighs. He’s been feeling terrible all day about lying to Harvey. He can’t shake the feeling though that Harvey wouldn’t have looked twice at him if he knew the truth. Well, Mike knows he wouldn’t. Mike doesn’t want to hurt Harvey, but he can’t deny the thrill he feels about going to this corporate event tonight. The thrill of being on Harvey’s arm, of being someone completely different, of belong, if only for a few hours, to a world he’s wanted to belong to since his parents were ripped from him. 

“Kind of?” Mike poses it like a question and he hears Jenny squeal and Trevor laugh again. 

“Really? Who’s the...girl? Guy?” It still impresses Mike that Trevor’s so accepting of Mike. It had taken Mike years to tell Trevor he liked guys as well and Trevor had just nodded like he already knew and thrown a pillow at him. 

“Some guy in this building. He thinks I live here. And that my name’s Harold,” Trevor laughs again, a bright bark of noise down the phone, then there’s a muffled struggled and Jenny’s voice come across the speakers. 

“Mike,” it’s a warning and Mike knows. 

“I know Jen ok, I know. But I…” he trails off and hears Jenny sigh. 

“If you like him, don’t hurt him.” She says and Mike nods like she can see him. 

“What have you done with Trevor?” He asks and Jenny chuckles a little. 

“Left him in the sitting room. I knew you wouldn’t want to have this conversation with him around. Do you like him?” 

“I’ve only met him like twice, but yeah I do and I can’t explain it Jenny. Like, it was just instant.” Mike sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It’s always been easier to talk to Jenny about this kind of stuff. And when she was gone for those few years Mike had missed her like a limb. He feels a warm swell of love for her in his chest. 

“Ok listen to me. You either go tonight and tell him everything. Or you don’t go and you walk out of his life. You know which one I’m leaning towards.” 

“Not going and never seeing him again?” Mike asks hopefully. 

“Don’t take the easy road just cos it’s easier Mike. Tell him. If he feels the same as you, he’ll understand. But go. Tell him. I love you.” 

“Love you too, tell Trev he’s a dick.” Jenny laughs and hangs up the phone. She’s right of course, Harvey does need to know. He needs to know who Mike is, that he isn’t who Harvey thinks he is. He needs to. Doesn’t make it any easier though. 

~~~~~

Pete’s looking at him with his head cocked to one side and his lips pressed together. 

“It’s gonna have to do,” he says and Mike throws his hands up. 

“Way to instil confidence Pete, thank you.” 

“No I mean,” he stands and runs his hands across Mike’s shoulders. “It fits, mostly, a little too loose in the shoulders perhaps but,” he shrugs and takes a step back. “You’re gonna have to do something with your hair though.” 

“What are you? My fairy godmother?” Mike runs his fingers through his hair and smoothes it down. Pete takes one last look and nods. 

“A good as you’ll ever be.”

“God you’re a crappy fairy godmother.” Pete laughs and Mike flips him the bird as there’s a knock from the front door. “Shit.” 

“Just remember, you’re Harold. Ok?”

“I’m Harold,” Mike says, taking one last look at himself in the mirror as there’s another knock on the door. 

“Have fun,” Pete stage whispers. 

“You’re early,” Mike says as he pulls the door open. “You’re not Harvey.” 

“So it _is_ a guy,” Trevor pushes past him into the apartment and Pete excuses himself. 

“What you doing here?” 

“Jenny’s worried about you,” Trevor says taking in the apartment. Mike raises an eyebrow. 

“Why?” 

“She thinks you’re getting too deep into something you shouldn’t,” Trevor pulls open the refrigerator and digs out a beer. 

“And what do you think?” Mike asks and Trevor swallows a mouthful of beer, thinking before he answers. 

“As long as you don’t get yourself hurt, I’m happy,” he says. “Dude, I deal to supplement the lifestyle I have become accustomed to, and I half lie to my girlfriend about it, I don’t think I have the right to judge anyone.” 

“So you’re here because…?” Mike leaves the sentence hanging as his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

“To make sure you have a tux that fits you first of all,” Trevor looks him up and down with a wrinkle of his nose. There’s a text notification on Mike’s screen and he thumbs the message open. It’s from Harvey. 

_I have to stop by the office, I’m sending a car for you. Be ready in 30. H_

Mike can’t help but smile at the authoritative tone in the message. In the short time he’s known Harvey, he knows that Harvey is not one to be argued with. 

“Wait...what’s wrong with the tux?” Mike asks and Trevor grins his usual grin, one that usually gets Mike into trouble.

“I have a better one.”

“Where? Up your ass?” Mike asks, Trevor pushes at his shoulder and pulls open the front door, reaching down and around the door frame and pulling in a box. 

“Right here.” 

“So you’re the fairy godmother?” 

“What?”

“Nothing.” 

~~~~~

Mike has to admit, the tux Trevor bought over fits better than Harold’s. It’s snug across his shoulders, but not too tight, like it was made for him. Mike doesn’t want to even know where Trevor got it from, or how much it cost, or how Trevor knew the right sizes for him. He sits in the back of the town car Harvey had sent for him, fiddling with the bow tie. 

The driver, who’d introduced himself as Ray, looks at Mike in the rear view mirror. 

Mike feels a pit of worry start to ball in his stomach, the sick feeling of betraying Harvey, as the car glides to a halt outside the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 

Mike remembers being here once before, with his school, a small boy of 5 staring in wonder, from the bottom of the wide steps, to the columns on the building. He feels as small now as he did then as Ray opens the door for him. Mike thanks him and ascends the steps.

Harvey’s waiting for him at the top and he turns, a smile on his face that makes Mike stomach hurt. Harvey waits for Mike to meet him, but winds an arm around Mike’s waist and pulls him close. 

“That’s a good tux,” he mutters, lips against Mike’s and Mike wants to just forget the whole evening and go back to Harvey’s apartment and shut the real world out forever. The brush of lips is lewd in it’s promise but to any outsider it would almost look chaste. Mike feels like he’s swaying slightly when Harvey lets him go enough to push gently on his lower back, guiding him into the museum. 

The evening is full of nameless faces, expensive champagne, Harvey, Harvey’s colleagues and clients and Harvey. Mike realises with a sick jolt that Harvey’s so far under his skin and he doesn’t know how. After two days he feels like he’ll never connect with another person like this. Harvey smiles at him from across the room and Mike feels his chest tighten. 

Mike’s hit with a cloud of expensive scent and turns to find himself face to face with Harvey’s secretary. Donna. She looks impeccable and she knows it. 

“Have we met?” She asks, plucking another two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one to Mike. 

Mike shakes his head, “I don’t think so. I believe I would remember,” he offers a smile that’s mirrored. Except it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“You’re Harvey’s date,” she states and Mike nods. “Harold.” It’s that name again, each time Mike hears it, it makes him sick. “Except you’re not...Harold.” Donna says and takes a sip of her champagne, eyes locked on Mike’s . 

“Excuse me?” 

“I know Harold Gunderson lives in Harvey’s building, I know Harvey thinks you live in his building. But you’re not Harold Gunderson.” Mike wants to run. His blood pounds in his veins, loud in his ears. 

“No I’m not. I live above Harold,” Mike says and Donna raises an eyebrow knowingly. 

“I don’t know what your plan is, but there are people who will hunt you down if you hurt Harvey, and I’m one of them. So don’t.” 

“I don’t have a plan,” Mike drains his champagne. “I like Harvey, Donna I really do. I’m not going to hurt him.” Mike sees Harvey making his way across the room to them and Mike wants the whole world to just narrow down to the two of them. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” She smiles in way that passersby would think it was genuine. “It was nice to meet you...Harold.” She places her hand on Harvey’s arm as she walks past, he spares her a brief but honest smile but mostly he looks at Mike. His eyes promise so much more than his touches do and Mike wants to strip him down right here, right now. Wants to fall to his knees and give Harvey everything he’s ever wanted. Give Harvey everything.

This is so wrong, Mike thinks as Harvey reaches him. 

“I have to go,” Mike says and Harvey blinks, smile falling from his face. 

“You ok?” 

“Yeah, I’m...sorry, I have to go,” Mike turns to leave but Harvey’s hand on his arm stops him. 

“Harold…”

“I’m so sorry,” Mike pulls himself from Harvey’s grip and weaves his way through the crowd, he sees Donna watching but ignores her, and ignores Harvey’s call from behind him. 

The fresh night air hits him as Mike makes it outside, the comforting noise of the city fills his ears but Harvey’s voice still reaches him. 

“Harold...wait.” Harvey’s hand curls around Mike’s wrist. “What’s going on?” 

“I…” Mike shakes his head and Harvey pulls him closer. 

“Do you have somewhere else you have to be?” He sounds vaguely amused, a little surprised that someone would run out on him. 

“No I just need to leave.” Mike tugs his arm experimentally and Harvey tightens his grip, pulls him forward. 

“I don’t think you’re leaving. I think you’re running.” Harvey’s voice is low now, there’s a hint of anger under his worried tone, a hint of something that sounds like hurt and Mike swallows, “and what I can’t figure out is if you’re running towards something you want. Or away from something you’re afraid to want.” 

“Maybe both.” Mike shakes his head and wrenches himself from Harvey’s grip. “I’ve made so many mistakes in my life already. I just don’t want to make it worse.” He’s pleading, he can hear it in his own voice, he’s pleading with Harvey just to drop it. To understand, to leave him. To let him go. 

“You won't. I promise,” Harvey replies, his voice soft and Mike can’t help but take a step towards him. 

“There’s something you don’t know, ok? Shit…” Mike runs a hand through his hair and Harvey looks like he wants to touch him, makes an abortive attempt but drops his hands to his side. “Look when you first saw me I was…”

“Mesmerising,” Harvey says quietly. “I was in the elevator with that girl and you were all I could look at and I have no idea why.” Mike breathes out his name like a plea and Harvey cups a hand around his face, his thumb slides across Mike’s cheekbone. “Come home with me.” The unspoken _please_ is loud it’s almost deafening. “Tomorrow will sort itself out.” Harvey kisses him then, gentle at first, just a press of lips until Mike whines into his mouth. Harvey slides a thumb under Mike’s chin and presses into the soft skin there, tilts Mike’s head back and slides his lips across Mike’s throat. “Come home with me.” Harvey whispers against, against Mike’s throat. 

“Ok.”

~~~~~  
Harvey’s hands are warm around Mike’s face. He tilts Mike’s head upwards and leans down to kiss him, it’s gentle at first and Mike gets his hands on the button of Harvey’s tux pants. He runs his hands around Harvey’s hips, pushing the pants down as he does it. They hit the floor with a quiet rustle of expensive fabric and Harvey sucks in a breath as Mike runs his knuckles across his stomach. The muscles twitch and Mike pushes down the boxers as well. Harvey steps out of them, tugs Mike to his feet. He pushes Mike’s jacket from his shoulders, pulling it off his arms and dropping it on the floor behind him. There’s an air of hesitation from both of them, the heaviness before a storm between them as Harvey undoes each button on Mike’s shirt, starting from the bottom. He reaches the bow tie and deftly pulls it off, sliding it out from under Mike’s collar. He drops it on top of Mike’s jacket and opens Mike’s shirt. His hands warm and dry, solid against Mike’s chest. His hands travel upwards, across Mike’s shoulders and push the shirt off them. It lands on the bed behind them and Harvey tugs him close, fingers digging into Mike’s hips. Mike feels Harvey’s cock, already half hard, against his thigh and groans into Harvey’s mouth. When Harvey lets him go, Mike slips to his knees as Harvey starts unbuttoning his own shirt. Mike looks up at him, takes in the look on Harvey’s face that’s almost unreadable, but then Harvey reaches down and runs a thumb across Mike’s cheekbone and Mike has to look away. 

He leans forward and curls his fingers around Harvey’s cock, pressing his lips to the tip as he twists his hand and Harvey jerks his hips forward, chasing the feeling. Mike smiles to himself, he’s always been good at this. He spares Harvey another look, leaning forward with his eyes still locked on Harvey’s and takes his cock into his mouth. Harvey’s eyes flutter closed for a second, the grip on Mike’s face sliding to his shoulder and he grips harder, fingers digging into Mike’s skin as Mike swallows around him. Harvey’s other hand reaches for Mike’s face, his thumb slipping into Mike’s mouth and Mike rubs his tongue along the underside of Harvey’s cock, humming as Harvey’s breathing gets heavier. His fingers twitch again against Mike’s shoulder and his thumb slips from Mike’s mouth to his hair, curling into the short strands he finds there. 

Something in Mike breaks at the same time as it does in Harvey and Mike pushes forward even more as Harvey jerks his hips. Harvey’s cock hits the back of his throat and Mike swallows again, breathes through it, hums, draws almost all the way back, his fingers following his mouth and he twists his hand, runs his thumb nail over the slit at the tip of Harvey’s cock. Harvey groans, low and long in the back of his throat and hauls Mike to his feet. He kisses the taste of himself from Mike’s mouth, his hips jerking against Mike’s. He pushes Mike’s shoulders and Mike finds himself flat on his back, looking up at an amused, yet highly aroused Harvey. 

“God the things I want to do to you,” Harvey says, crawling over Mike’s body. Mike arches up into him. 

“The things I’d let you do,” he replies and Harvey blinks down at him. He reaches between them and curls his hand around both of them, his long fingers stroking them together and Mike can do nothing except clutch at Harvey’s shoulders. “Shit...stop.”

Harvey stops immediately and Mike wants to kiss him again. There’s worry in his face and Mike brushes his thumb over Harvey’s pulse on his neck. 

“It’s going to be over too soon if you keep that up,” he tries to smile but feels it fading on his face. Harvey smiles instead, slow and almost predatory, and reaches to the side to fumble in a drawer. He draws out a condom and a tube of lube. He gets his hands around Mike’s wrists and lifts them over his head, crosses them and presses them into the mattress. 

“Stay,” he all but snaps and Mike feels a coil of heat in his belly. He looks down at Mike with a slight raise of an eyebrow, like he’s just figured something out and Mike arches up at him. He tears the condom packet open and keeps his eyes on Mike as he rolls it down himself. Mike wants to touch him but Harvey’s gaze flickers to his arms crossed over his head so he keeps still, fingers itching to reach out, watching Harvey squeeze lube onto his own fingers. He reaches down and lifts Mike’s leg, his fingers circling his hole. Mike groans and tries to press his hips down but Harvey’s free hand is pressed hard to his stomach, keeping him in place. Harvey presses a finger inside and they both groan. He leans down and runs his lips across Mike’s. “Feel so good,” he mutters, pressing another finger inside Mike, “so good.” It’s like he’s talking to himself and Mike shuts his eyes as Harvey presses another finger inside, curling them and Mike sees white behind his eyelids. “You want this?” Harvey asks and his fingers leave Mike. He opens his eyes and has a feeling they’re talking about so much more than just sex right now. He wants to reach up and touch Harvey, wants to run his fingers through Harvey’s hair, wants to tug him close by his hair and kiss him hard as Harvey pushes in. 

“I want,” Mike says and Harvey pushes his cock into Mike’s body. Agonisingly slowly. Harvey’s hands are on his hips, tugging him down at the same time as he drives his own hips forward and Mike wants them to bruise, wants to be able to feel them tomorrow, the day after, when he’s walked out of this apartment, when he knows he won't be able to see Harvey again, he wants to feel him. “Come on,” he urges and Harvey lets out a huff of breath that could be a half laugh, could be something else and pushes all the way in. “Harder.” Harvey draws almost all the way out and pushes back in again, hard enough that the air leaves Mike’s lungs. 

“God, you feel…” Harvey trails off, leaning down to Mike and kissing him hard, bruisingly, as he pulls out and pushes back in again and Mike sees stars, the backs of his thighs tingling, the muscles in his stomach tightening. 

Harvey sets the rhythm, fucking Mike long and hard, and there’s a sheen of sweat across Harvey’s shoulders that Mike aches to run his fingers through. Harvey reaches up to his crossed wrists and curls a hand around them.

“Come for me,” he says, his lips against Mike’s. Mike comes, shuddering under Harvey as Harvey mutters out “come for me,” again. 

Harvey comes a few seconds later, grunting above Mike, pressing his lips to Mike’s throat, his teeth worrying the soft skin there. Harvey pulls out, and stands. Mike takes a second to drink in the sight of him, still slightly hard. He reaches down and runs his fingers through the mess on Mike’s stomach. 

“I’ll get you a towel,” he says, and sucks at the tip of his middle finger. Mike feels his cock valiantly stir against his thigh and groans. Harvey grins down at him and turns, walking away from him. He’s back before Mike’s brain kicks back into gear, even in his comfortably numb state Mike knows a mental freak out of coming. Harvey sits down next to him and presses the towel into his hands. “Listen, I don’t claim to know what’s going on with you, but I want to. If you want me to. So...just...stay, please.” It’s the please that does it and Mike finds himself nodding to Harvey. Harvey takes the towel from his hands, drops it to the floor and crawls into bed next to Mike. He tugs him close and tucks him neatly beside him, his strong hand against Mike’s hip, rubbing a slow circle against the tender, bruising skin. 

Mike falls asleep with his fingers over Harvey’s strong heartbeat. 

~~~~~

Mike wakes in stages. The first being blissfully aware of the ache in his muscles, the second the soft skin beneath his hand. 

Harvey shifts, but doesn’t wake. He’s on his side next to Mike, facing him, one arm stretched out under Mike’s neck, the other curled between them. Mike runs his fingers across Harvey’s palm softly and slips out of the wide bed. Harvey shifts again, his eyes fluttering open for a second and a slow, small smile spreads across his lips. 

“You leaving?” He mumbles, thick with sleep, muffled by the pillow beneath his cheek. 

“I’ll be right back,” Mike whispers and Harvey hums, turning his back to where Mike had been as Mike picks up his clothes. He takes one last look at Harvey, drinks in the sight of the expanse of his back, the curve of his shoulder, the sleep ruffled hair, before he quietly opens the apartment door and is out in the New York city dawn before he can’t stop himself. 

~~~~~

Mike feels sick walking into the Pearson Specter building the following Monday. He’s been ignoring Harvey’s text for a week. There had been a barrage at first, then nothing. Mike can’t blame him for giving up. Strangely he’s missed Harvey. He didn't know it as possible to miss someone you barely knew but he does. 

Harold has gotten back to live Orchids and had been so appreciative he’d ordered take-out. Mike had wanted to tell him everything, his name had been used after all, but the words had failed him. Harold had told him he’d see him on his first day, that he’d come down and say hi. Mike hadn’t had the heart to tell him not to worry. 

He checks in at the front desk and is directed down a hallway to Leo Blake’s office. 

Leo smiles up at him from his desk and reaches across to shake his hand. 

“Go to have you,” he says and Mike wishes he could muster the energy to feel the same way. The worry of bumping into Harvey sits like a stone in his belly. 

Leo shows him around, explains the job and within days Mike knows the name of practically every member of staff.

Three weeks in and Mike’s not seen Harvey. There’s a war inside him again, part of him yearns to see him, to touch him again. The other part never wants to have to see the disappointment on Harvey’s hurt when he finds out Mike’s lie.

“We’re wanted on the 40th floor,” Leo says as Mike’s making a coffee and Mike’s heart jumps into his throat. That’s Harvey’s floor. 

“We? Why?” Mike asks and Leo shrugs. 

“No idea, but come on.” 

The elevator ride is quiet, Leo standing beside him as Mike’s mind whirs a mile a minute. By the time the doors open on the 40th floor, Mike’s ready to run but he takes a step out onto the floor, trailing behind Leo and he follows him down the horrifyingly familiar corridor. 

Harvey’s looking a mixture of confused and furious, Harold worried and Donna looks passively at the both of them. Mike swallows hard as Harvey looks across the room at him. Donna steers Leo from the room and shuts the door behind him.

“Harvey…” Mike starts and Harvey looks at him. The look in his eyes makes the words die in Mike’s throat. 

“Don’t,” Harvey says, holding a hand up and Mike swallows again. Harold looks across at him and mouths _I’m sorry_. “What the hell is going on? Was this all just a game to you?” He sounds hurt and Mike wants to throw himself at Harvey’s feet and beg for forgiveness. “Harold, you can go.” Harold throws another apology at Mike as he leaves and Mike’s left with an angry, pacing Harvey. 

“It wasn’t a game,” Mike starts and Harvey pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Nothing, for weeks, nothing from you and then I’m told that Harold Gunderson who lives in my building already works here. Imagine my surprise when Harold isn’t the Harold I thought he was.” Harvey faces Mike.

“I’m sorry,” Mike tries and Harvey shakes his head. 

“Not good enough. You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you,” Harvey scoffs, “and I didn’t correct you.”

“Why?” Harvey says and he sounds hurt again, less angry now. There’s still an edge of anger in his voice, in the line of his shoulders but he’s starting to look more hurt and Mike wants to look away. He did that, he hurt Harvey. 

“Would you have looked at me if you knew I was a bike messenger?” Mike asks and Harvey blinks at him, “no, you wouldn’t, because you didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I was here, weeks ago, delivery a package to you and you didn’t even look twice at me. It wasn’t until you thought I was good enough to live in your building that you spared me a second look.” Mike feels anger building under his own skin. 

“So you lie to me and _I’m_ the bad guy?” Harvey lets out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get to play the pity card right now...Mike.” Harvey spits his name out and Mike wants to hear his name come from Harvey’s lips again, muttered darkly against the skin of his throat. He pushes down the want.

“No, I…I never meant to lie to you but that night?” Harvey shuts his eyes, a shade longer than a blink and Mike knows he’s remembering. “That night wasn’t a lie Harvey.”

“Get out,” there’s a hint of regret in Harvey’s voice which Mike wants to play on. 

“Harvey, please.”

“Get out Mike.” Harvey turns away from him to the wide windows.

“I’ll uh…” Mike sees Harvey’s shoulders tense and he wants to run his hands over them, to press his lips to the back of Harvey’s neck. “I’ll work out the week, then I'll be gone. I really am sorry Harvey. But not everything was a lie.”

~~~~~

“In the short time I’ve know you, Mike, I can see there’s more in there,” Leo points towards Mike’s chest. “I’ve got a friend who runs a law clinic in Queens. He could use some help around the office. I’ve told him you’ve got experience with law but that you’re not a member of the Bar and he wants you to go talk to him.” Mike blinks.

“When did you talk to him,” Mike’s still reeling from the argument with Harvey, and he wants to cry, wants to get drunk at 10 in the morning and fuck a stranger. He wants to go back upstairs and get Harvey to listen to him. He wants to run away and never look back. 

“When you first sent your resume in,” Leo says simply and Mike sighs and resists the urge to hug him. “Go talk to him Mike. Go do something that you’re proud of.” 

~~~~~

A second after Jenny pulls the door open, she’s got her arms around Mike. 

“What happened?” She asks, pulling him into her apartment. Her space is so her that it makes Mike feel safe. He tells her everything, whilst she’s fixing coffee, he tells her how he’s never felt a connection like that before, how he tried to tell Harvey everything, tells her about the sex that felt like so much more than just sex, tells her to look on Harvey’s face this morning, accusatory and hurt across the room. 

And, just like Jenny, she listens without commenting, her fingers curled in Mike’s, her face soft and so familiar. 

“What are you going to do?” She asks and Mike shrugs. 

“Go talk to the Law Clinic.” Jenny pushes at his shoulder gently and rolls her eyes. “I dunno Jenny, I screwed it up, I lied, he assume, whatever but it’s my fault and he won't want to see me ever again. He’s not in my life anymore but I wish him well in his.” 

Jenny pulls him into a hug and presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“Trevor will want to get drunk tonight.” Mike laughs and it feels like ashes in his mouth. 

~~~~~

The weeks pass slowly for Mike. He loves his job at the clinic. He mainly deals with paperwork but every now and then Nathan lets him help out on a case. It feeds Mike’s need to be doing something else but it doesn’t quite shut down the thought of Harvey. 

Harvey floats to the front of his mind every now and then, his face, his hands on Mike’s hips, the bruises have long gone but Harvey’s still there. Mike still feels the guilt like a punch to the gut. 

He spends his evenings with Trevor and Jenny, drinking to avoid the thoughts of Harvey but sometimes he lets his mind wander and wakes up half hard with Harvey’s name on his lips. 

He hasn’t heard from Harold, but then again he didn’t expect to. He abused his friendship, used his apartment and his name to get into bed with his boss. Mike hates that he did that to Harold, one of the few people that saw Mike for something else other than a screw-up. He wants to call Harold though, and in his more selfish moments he wants to call Harold to ask about Harvey.

He’s seen Harvey’s name in a few law journals over the last month, and despite himself he smiled and ran his fingers over Harvey’s name. He couldn’t touch Harvey but it was the next best thing. 

Nathan’s got him organizing files for the latest case the clinic is working on and the files are spread out in front of Mike like a sea of paper. He sighs, his eyes swimming with fatigue. There’s a headache building behind his eyes, and at the back of his neck. He’s fixing a coffee, spooning instant freeze dried grinds into a chipped stained mug when there’s a knock on the clinic door. Mike frowns. It’s late, nearly midnight and everyone else has gone for the evening. 

He sees Harvey through the door and has to blink, shake his head to clear it because this can’t be happening, Harvey can’t be standing in front of the clinic door in the middle of a rain storm. He still looks impeccable, not yet noticing Mike standing the other side of the door, doing a decent impression of a goldfish. 

Mike reaches up and tugs down the lock and Harvey turns, locks eyes with him through the scratched glass. Mike reaches down to undo the bottom lock and pulls the door open. 

“What are you doing here?” Harvey takes a step into the clinic, winds an arm around Mike’s waist, hesitates for just a split second and kisses him. Mike winds his fingers around the tops of Harvey’s arms and fights the flood of emotion and the rush of noise in his head. 

“Hello,” Harvey says quietly when he lets Mike go, a hint of a smile plays at the corner of his mouth and Mike runs his thumbs across the smooth fabric of Harvey’s suit. 

“Hi,” he breathes out in reply and the smile on Harvey’s lips gets a fraction larger. 

“Can we…” Harvey takes another step inside, kicks the door closed behind him. He’s still got an arm around Mike, pressing their bodies close together and he smells like rain and expensive aftershave. “Can we start over? Second chance, second date? No secrets?” 

Mike swallows, against all the guilt at hurting Harvey, using Harold, swallows against the resentment of not being noticed. Harvey looks at him, open and honest and Mike gets the feeling he’s seeing a rare side of him, vulnerable almost. He takes a step back, and Harvey’s face flickers with concern. 

“Mike Ross, Assistant at the Eastside Law Clinic,” he holds his hand out to Harvey who suppresses a smile and takes Mike’s hand in his own. 

“Harvey Specter, have dinner with me tomorrow night.” Mike huffs out and laugh and tugs Harvey close, his lips millimeters from Harveys. 

“Ok.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, a huge thanks to the amazing mrstotten for all her help and for her listening to me bitch and moan. 
> 
> This is all from Mike's point of view. I would like to say there is a follow up from Harvey's point of view in the works but I can't promise anything!
> 
> There's a mixture of quotes from both Suits and Maid In Manhattan in here.


End file.
